I cannot believe it has been so long since I posted and I’m sorry, truly, that it’s taken me forever and a day to get my ass in gear. But due to recent events, I felt inspired to write something and I’m actually really, really happy with how this turned out!
Also, I owe a huge thank you to @permanentcross for giving me advice and reassuring me this wasn’t crap and to @canistay-haz for being her wonderful, loving self and telling me I don’t suck. You both are so, so lovely and I’m lucky that I can ask you for advice when I’m not confident in my writing.
Normally, Saturday mornings would be reserved for sleeping in, lazy kisses, and barely audible gasps filling your ears. Today however, you and Harry had to be somewhat functioning adults. You were having one last get together with Harry’s closest friends and family before his life was sent into the spotlight for who knows how long, and he didn’t get to be as free and open with his time as he had been.
You woke up about half an hour after Harry did, knowing you had things to do and people to see but you were having none of it. All you could think about was the slight yet very-much-still-there tingling sensation between your legs thanks to yours and Harry’s late night rendezvous. You smiled to yourself, rolling over and letting your face collide into Harry’s pillow, inhaling his lingering scent that made you want him all over again…
You made your way downstairs to your boyfriend, legs bare and torso covered in his ridiculously baggy pink shirt that was littered with the white polka dots, your rear just barely peeking out at the bottom hem. Harry was sporting only a pair of grey joggers that hung much too low on his hips, not that you were complaining.
“Morning, sunshine.” You wrapped your arms around his waist, peppering his back with tiny pecks.
“G’morning, poppet. Sleep okay?” Every morning after, without fail, he asks how you slept. He asks because he knows when you’re both in the heat of the moment, sex isn’t gentle. Not that it’s animalistic, but you and Harry like what you like and making sure you’re comfortable and properly taken care of after is an essential part of his aftercare routine; he’ll be damned if he doesn’t take care of you and pamper any part that might be slightly bruised or extra loved on. He does love a routine after all…
“Mhm,” you purr into his back, pecking his skin once more before he spins around in your grasp, your arms falling to your sides while he places one hand on your cheek and encloses your mouth with his.
“Good,” he smiles down at you, pecking your cheek before turning back to the countertop where you can see he’s been preparing a dessert for the get together later that night.
“Whatcha makin’?” you ask, hopping upon the countertop, legs swinging back and forth while eyeing the bowl of plain raspberries and the graham cracker crust that was still sitting in the tart pan Harry insisted he needed.
“How does a raspberry tart for tonight sound? Bought the pan, figured there was no use in letting it sit in the cupboard.”
You couldn’t help but stifle a giggle. There was nothing comical about the dessert in and of itself, but you were feeling some type of way this morning and you couldn’t help but think of it in a provocative way.
Harry rolled his eyes, trying not to grin, “Why is that funny?”
You just giggled again and reached to kiss him on the cheek, “Maybe I wanna be your little raspberry tart. I already have the perfect shirt on.” Although you’d been sitting on the countertop for a good minute already, Harry had just noticed how his shirt had ridden up your thighs and he swallowed hard, also taking in how you had only the bottom two buttons fastened and there was little, if anything, left to the imagination. What Harry didn’t know was that you didn’t have anything covering the part of you that wanted him the most; he figured you’d just thrown on something skimpy just to torture him but no, you were completely bare, apart from the bottom of the hem under your bum, and sitting on your boyfriend’s counter. Harry didn’t have a prayer.
You smirked at him cheekily and even though you’d had him not even eight hours before, he could tell you still had an appetite for something else, something that filled you in a different way.
1) Pressed flowers
2) Coloured Sand
3) Thin buttons
4) Embroidery thread
5) Second hand postcards
6) magazine clippings
7) Patches for mending clothes
8) Denim from old jeans
9) Pages of old books
10) Pressed insects
11) Newspaper articles
12) Calligraphy inks (more vibrant and transparent than water-color)
13) Paper bags
15) Washi tape
16) Spray paint
17) Scrapbook paper
18) House paint (paint stores give away mistinted paint for extremely low prices, can confirm: I work at a paint store and get free paint every day.)
19) Colour chips (get these while you’re at the paint store :p)
20) Tin foil
21) Candle wax
22) Nail polish (if you pour it on the page and let it dry its beautifully shiny and textured. I use it to make eyes that glisten).
23) Oil pastels
24) Locks of your hair
25) Perfume samples
26) Resaraunt coasters
27) Gold leaf pen ( found at art stores)
29) Black coffee
30) Postage stamps
31) Junk mail
33) Dead butterflies and moths
34) Food lables
35) Coffee sleeves
37) Unused pages from previous journals/ notebooks.
38) Duct tape, patterned or otherwise.
41) Makeup (lipstick especially)
42) Lino Stamps (art stores sell ones you can carve yourself.)
43) Door numbers and letters (home depot has a whole wall of them).
44) Lables from a lable maker
45) Ticket stubs
47) Resaraunt menus
48) Other people’s drawings
49) Baggage tags
50) Recipe cards
51) Pencil crayon
52) Regular crayon
53) Acrylic paint
54) Pressed mushrooms
55) Little plastic bags
56) Felt pen
58) Straw and dried grasses
59) Old school notes and assignments
60) Printed photographs
61) Business cards
62) Parcel packaging
63) Yarn or wool
64) Book marks
65) Stickers from Starbucks coffee bags (you can ask for these without buying the coffee)
66) Tea and tea bags
67) Spider webs
68) Snake skin (pet stores)
69) Scraps of fabric
70) Pet fur
71) Hair dye
72) Berry juice
73) Wood stain
75) Masking tape
77) Notes from family members and loved ones
78) Beer and wine lables
81) Birthday cards
82) Oragami paper
83) Shoe laces
84) Dictionary entries
86) Melted Crayons
87) Chalk board paint and sidewalk chalk
88) Metallic foil
89) Coin rubbings
91) Thin tile
92) Spray on velvet
93) Cue cards
94) Name tags
96) Squished bottle caps
97) Paper doilies
99) Dried herbs
100) The inside of correlated cardboard.
Crimson Claret ‘Claire’ Stiletto for @morgibritt‘s Shipwrecked Passion BC!
The Stilettos are a clan of courageous, ruthless fashion designers and models, but the middle child of the current generation, Claire, has always stuck out like a sore thumb. While her younger brother Cadillac has already released two bestselling perfumes at age 19, Claire has no ambitions to join the family business at all. She dreams of being an actress, but her fear of pretty much everything has gotten in the way multiple times, and it doesn’t help that she’s still naive like a child, either. She’s only really herself when she’s in her basement sculpting, a freetime activity her therapist has suggested and that she fell in love with right away.
Now her parents have decided they’ve watched her daughter fail often enough and have signed her up for Willie’s BC, hoping that the ties with a fellow businessman will at least provide them with a few advantages. Claire wasn’t exactly mad when she found out, not having had the best luck with men while she’d tried herself, but of course before she can win his heart, she has to survive the journey in Willie’s yacht surrounded by lots and lots of terrifying, hungry water…or is there perhaps more to this young lady than what she lets others see? Is she really a hopeless coward? Who really knows?
i’m re-watching ‘crystal venom’ and … it’s weird because allura never mentions missing her mother? even when king alfor’s ai is like “i remember how the berry juice stained your favorite dress. you were so upset,” allura just laughs and says “it took forever for mother to calm me … i miss altea so much. i miss you, father. i wish it didn’t have to be this way.”
she never says she misses her mother specifically, and i don’t think she ever talked about her before, nor does she bring her up again. maybe allura didn’t have the best relationship with her mom?
A/N: Muse burst out of nowhere and before I knew it, I was jotting down this blip. Based off of the AnimalSet from SIF. Semi-crack(?) Words: 4,782 Ships: Kanan x Dia, implied You x Riko Summary: In which the popular body pillow Panda went on a journey to find herone night stand the mysterious stranger who shared her bed.
There was once a kingdom that gave birth to two sons. The eldest was to
rule, as was tradition, while the other married into a neighboring kingdom. The
Princess of that kingdom loved the younger prince dearly and the arrangement was
a perfect match. However, the eldest prince too needed to take a wife and he
did. A princess with skin as white as snow and hair as black as deepest ebony.
With flush cheeks and lips red as the rose she was given the nickname Snow
The now-King saw how Snow White’s eyes roamed to his younger brother’s
form when he and his wife visited. And so, he conspired with his advisor to
kill the Queen. For what use was an unfaithful wife? There were more than
enough women who would take her place; being easy on the eyes was not worth the
“Imagine II” (2015), Michael Cheval The artist explains:
“This work is dedicated to John Lennon. He is the main character of the painting who sits on the mosaic floor located in Central Park, New York. This famous mosaic, from the ‘Strawberry Fields’ opposite the house where the legendary musician lived and died, is a pilgrimage centre for fans devoted to Lennon and ‘Beatles.’ The woman figure lying on Lennon’s knees is not Yoko Ono, but a symbol of Music, incredible and full of surprises, like the silent violin that she plays. Strawberries are all around Lennon’s figure, even in his hat. The hat looks like a juicer with a clock mechanism. Perhaps, for Lennon, the Strawberry image was a symbol of love and, I think, juice from these berries fed his creativity as the God’s nectar. Love feeds creativity – this is an axiom.”